“If you’d seen her—” Jim stopped.
Chris laughed. “What? I’d think she was completely normal? Right. People can disappear when they feel like it.”
Emily, Jim, and Mark shared puzzled glances, unable to explain what they meant. “It’s something more than that,” she said lamely. “It’s almost like she’s there and not there at the same time.”
Jim and Mark were nodding. “Exactly,” Jim said, pointing at her. “That’s exactly how she is.”
Chris huffed in impatience. “What’s that supposed to mean? ‘There and not there?’ That doesn’t mean anything!”
She frowned, trying to think of a way to put it into words. “It’s almost as if, if you were looking at the right angle, she’d still be there. Like she didn’t actually disappear—you just can’t see her anymore.”
Jim was visibly excited, his color bright and his eyes shining. “That’s exactly how I felt when I saw her. Like if I could stand in the right place—”
“Or at the right time,” Mark said.
She looked at him sharply. He’d put his finger on it. She met Jim’s gaze, and he nodded again, his eyes slightly crazed. “Exactly. The right time. That’s it exactly.”
Chris laughed again. “Are you serious? You mean, like she’s actually there, but in some other time?”
She, Jim, and Mark nodded at once. Somehow, the explanation fit precisely. Why hadn’t she thought of it before?
Chris looked at June. “Do you agree with them?”
June shrugged. “I haven’t seen her. I don’t know. But the hands didn’t feel human. That much, I know.”
Chris rolled his eyes. “Fine. But regardless of when, who do you think she is? Margot Lewis?”
Emily shook her head immediately. “No. Margot didn’t look anything like the woman in the window.”
Jim was silent for a moment. “She’s right. I don’t recognize her, either. Maybe one of Margot’s sisters? I think she had a couple.”
“She had one,” Emily said. “And one brother. They both died pretty young.”
“Well, maybe that’s her, then,” Chris said. “Maybe it’s her sister. Do you know anything about her?”
She shook her head. “No. I know her brother died in some kind of accident when they were all pretty young, but I don’t remember what happened to her sister. I think she died when Margot was abroad.” She tried to recall any details and then shook her head. “I don’t remember anything else.”
Chris sighed and then stretched, wincing again a moment later. He met her eyes. “Well, maybe that should be your part.”
“What do you mean?”
He grinned. “Your part to solve, I mean. The family.”
She frowned. “I don’t follow.”
Chris laughed. “That’s what we should do, right? Isn’t that what they always do in haunted-house stories? Find the cause? Isn’t that how you rid a house of ghosts?”
Emily was uncomfortable again, and judging from their faces, the others felt similarly. She was curious, yes, but since the attack in the bathtub, she’d hoped to simply slide under the house’s radar long enough to complete her work. The last few days of relative quiet had convinced her it was possible. She had felt, without putting it into words, that if she and the others simply did their jobs, didn’t ruffle too many curtains, the house would let them stay here and then, when they were done, let them leave.
Chris laughed again. “Don’t you want to figure it out? Aren’t you all curious?” He looked around at each of them and shook his head as if disgusted. “Well, I am. And pissed off. At the very least, I’m banged up like I was in a hell of a fight. And if June hadn’t been there, I think I would have been killed.” He squeezed June’s hand. “Thanks. For saving me.”
Emily launched to her feet. She didn’t like being put on the spot, but she had to convince them—had to get this right.
“It doesn’t want us to solve anything,” she said. “It wants us to leave it alone.”
Mark’s eyebrows lowered, but he didn’t seem angry—only interested. “What do you mean, Emily?”
She was breathing rapidly, almost as if she’d been running, but she had to convince them. It was vital that they listen, that they understand.
“Everything that’s happened is a warning.”
Chris guffawed, but the others were looking at her as if they too had reached a similar conclusion. She held up a hand and counted off on her fingers.
“The woman in the window, for one. For me and Mark, she appeared before we even entered the house.” She turned to Jim. “She also appeared to Jim, but think about how that happened. You were drawn outside first—almost as if something was trying to get your attention.”
“It was a piece of trash,” he said, frowning.
“But it wasn’t there before. I was looking out that same window, and I didn’t see anything. It was a little like the woman in the window—it was there, but I couldn’t see it. It waited to show itself to you, Jim. To warn you.”
The others seemed less certain now, and Jim was clearly unconvinced. Her opportunity was slipping away, but she continued.
“Then, when we didn’t listen to the warnings, things got worse.”
“You can say that again,” Chris said.
“No, listen to me for a second! When I didn’t heed the first warning—the woman in the window—the doors closed on their own. Then, when I still didn’t listen, the canopy in my bed opened by itself.” She thought harder, trying to piece it all together. “Then, after I told all of you about what had happened, it attacked me. I don’t think it likes to be talked about.”
Chris laughed again, but June was watching her. Jim had gotten up and was staring out the front window at the lawn. Mark was frowning at her, seeming halfway convinced.
“June,” she said. “What were the two of you talking about? In the pool, I mean? Before Chris was attacked?”
June blushed slightly before shaking her head. “Nothing much. School, family, that kind of thing. Getting to know each other.”
“Did you talk about the house?”
June looked at her sharply and shared another glance with Chris. “Yes, actually. I didn’t tell him much—”
Chris broke in. “But she did say that you all had some stories to tell me later. About the house.”
They were all quiet, and Emily could tell that she had, at least in part, convinced some of them. Chris, however, was clearly skeptical.
“So what do you propose?” he asked. “Should we leave?”
She immediately shook her head. “No. But we should leave it alone. We should do what we came here to do and not talk about the house. It doesn’t want us to figure anything out.”
Chris grinned, his mouth twitching as if he might laugh again, but when he saw that the others were starting to agree with her, he frowned deeply and got to his feet. He went over to the bar and poured himself some club soda. He hesitated for a second and poured a little vodka in his glass as well.
“Look,” he said when he turned around. “I get it. You’re all scared. I’m scared, too. But we can’t have it both ways. As far as I can see, we have two options: either all of us go upstairs, right now, and pack our bags, or we stay here and figure this out.” He paused, meeting their eyes. “Otherwise things are going to keep happening. It’s not safe here, and it won’t be unless we solve this thing.”
“I’m not leaving,” June said.
Emily was just as surprised as everyone else, and June colored slightly when they all looked at her. Her expression became more determined, and she shook her head. “I refuse to let it win. I wanted to leave. Before, I mean, but not anymore. Not now.”
Jim let out a bark of laughter. “Agreed. Fuck this house and the ghosts, or whatever’s doing this to us.”
Mark was staring at her, his expression grave and thoughtful. After a long pause, he sighed. “I’m staying. And I agree with Chris. We can’t have it both ways.”
She went hot an
d then cold. Dread welled up in her stomach, and her heart fluttered with terror. On some level, she’d known it would come to this. The others wouldn’t see it. She’d been here only a couple of days longer than they had, but she was right. If they left it alone, it would leave them alone. But people weren’t like her. She knew that, too.
She sighed, accepting the inevitable. Whatever was going to happen, it seemed fated to happen. Everyone was determined. “So what do you want to do?”
Chris grinned broadly. “That’s more like it.”
Everyone looked at Mark. He was the natural, unspoken leader of the group. He seemed to accept this mantle without discussion, and she could see that he was already considering the question. After a while, he sighed and shrugged.
“In the long run, I don’t know. But one thing I do know is something we can do together. We should go through the house, room by room. Now, if possible.” He paused, and no one disagreed, so he went on. “I haven’t been in the attic, and somehow I bet none of you have gone up there, either.”
They all shared another look, and Mark nodded. “Isn’t that strange? Not one of us thought to. Almost as if—”
“As if it didn’t want us to,” she said.
“Exactly.”
“What else should we do?” June asked.
Mark paused. “Well, we have other mysteries to solve. Chris has already suggested one, Emily, and I think he’s right—you’re the person to solve it. We need to find out what happened to the Lewis family. I need to figure out why this house was built the way it is, completely different from the original plans.”
“And I need to figure out who painted all the art in this house,” June said. She seemed excited, her color high.
“And I need to figure out the gardens,” Chris said. “Why are they here? Who planned and planted them?”
Jim was grinning. “And I need to keep working on the Lewis papers. With you, of course, Emily.”
Everyone sat as if stunned. It all seemed so simple now. Every person here had a part to play that only he or she could do. Her stomach clenched again with fear. If they pursued this, they would be in a great deal of danger. Someone, she was sure, would be hurt again, and it might be worse this time since they hadn’t listened to the warnings. The house wanted them to leave it alone. But they wouldn’t—they couldn’t. They had to know.
Everyone waited, almost as if each person wanted someone to back out or plead an excuse. Should one person change his or her mind, the whole project would collapse. They were either in this thing together or not at all. She glanced at Mark, willing him to say something, and he looked as if he was having second thoughts. The others seemed tense, even frightened. If no one said anything soon, the opportunity would pass.
She swallowed and squared her shoulders. Now that it had been decided, she didn’t want to back out.
She turned to Mark. “Where should we start?”
As if she’d said the magic words, everyone visibly relaxed, their expressions changing from frightened to determined. Mark seemed to feel the shift too and laughed.
“Let’s go to the attic first, then, ladies and gentlemen. I’ll get my equipment before we head up there.”
Chapter Thirteen
Unlike the side of the house that had been designated as the women’s side, the men’s side had five doors—three for the bedrooms, one for the bathroom, and one to the attic. The stairs to the attic were located between the bathroom and the corner room, which was partly why Mark, who was staying in there, had a much smaller room than Emily. Like the bathrooms, the door to attic wasn’t locked, but it had clearly been unused for a long while, as it was difficult to open. The door was heavy and weighted, designed to close on its own, and Mark and Jim had to hold it open for everyone so they could get through.
The stairs were steep and dark, with no light switch, and when they reached the top of the stairs, after rounding a corner, they found a long hallway that stretched the length of the house. Several doors came off the hall on either side. Windows were located at the ends of the hallway, but no one could see any other lights. After the bright lighting in the rest of the house, the dimness seemed ominous and strange.
“Most of the servants would have stayed up here,” Mark said. “I imagine we’ll also find one or two larger rooms that male guests or older boys would have used after they graduated from the nursery downstairs.”
“Up here with all the maids?” June said, grinning. “Seems a little risqué.”
Mark smiled. “You’re right. Generally, in a servants’ hall like this, you’d have a door, perhaps halfway down the hall, with a lock for the women’s side to keep the male servants and male household members out.” He walked down to the approximate middle of the hallway and examined the floor and ceiling. “It doesn’t even appear as if there was one here in the past. I can imagine taking out the dividing door after servants had become passé, but not to have had one? Ever?” He shook his head. “It would have been unheard of.”
Emily and the others walked a little closer to him as he talked, mainly to avoid bunching at the end of the hall, and they left a series of footprints on the dusty floor behind them. No one had been up here in a long time.
“Let’s start on one side, and then, if we have time, we can do the other,” Mark suggested. He pointed at the door on the left at the end of the hall. “Once we see inside the rooms, maybe we’ll get a better idea of how the household was arranged.”
They had to force this door too, and when Emily finally saw the inside of the room, she was surprised how small and empty it was. Mrs. Wright had made it sound like the rooms up here were packed with junk and antiques from the past, but this little room held only a twin bed and a tiny dresser. It was much too cramped for all five of them to fit inside comfortably, but she, Mark, and Jim explored a little, opening the dresser drawers and peeking under the bed. They found nothing but the furniture and a single, small window, too high to see out of, caked over with grit and cloudy with age. Jim and Mark quickly measured the room with Mark’s laser measure, and Emily took notes.
The next doors on the same side of the hall led to similar rooms, all completely devoid of personality. It made sense, in a way, that they would be plain and empty. It had likely been nearly eighty years since this house had any servants, but Emily couldn’t shake the impression that they should have found something in at least one of the rooms—a mark on the wall, a button, anything. And, judging from the dirty floors, they were the first people in these rooms in years, if not decades. In each room, Jim and Mark measured and she took notes, while Chris and June waited in the hall, chatting or watching. Emily was grateful she had the notes to focus on, as she was finding June and Chris’s camaraderie difficult to take. Their shared experience in the pool seemed to have shifted alliances.
The last doorway on the first side of the hallway led into a much-larger room—about three times as big as the servants’ rooms they’d seen, and here they found some of the things from downstairs that had clearly been shifted up to the attic over the years: broken lamps, crooked tables, a few chairs with missing legs, trunks full of old linens, and other things clearly of little value. Large, white sheets had been thrown over much of the contents, and all five of them had to fight with the dusty material to uncover what was underneath.
Jim, Mark, and she measured and noted the dimensions of the room again, and Mark took the notebook from her when she was done. He cast a critical eye around the room and then handed it back.
“This was likely one of the gentlemen’s rooms, if I’m not mistaken,” he said.
“What makes you think that?” she asked.
“Well, of course it’s much larger, and even though they’re small like the others on this floor, there are several windows. If this was a servants’ mess room, it likely wouldn’t have as many windows. If they had a room like this of their own, it wouldn’t be so grand. Also, as we’re at the front of the house on this side, this room commands a lovely view of both
the front lawn and the woods.”
It was difficult to see through the dirt and grime, but Emily realized that Mark was, of course, correct. The view here, if the windows were clean, would likely be the best in the house.
“Anyone tired?” he asked. “Or shall we do the other side of the hall before we call it quits?”
“Might as well,” Chris said, wiping at the dust on his sleeve. “No reason to get filthy a second time.”
The door across the hall led into another larger room with dimensions equal to the one they’d just been in, but, as Mark predicted, the windows were much smaller. This room, like the other one, was stuffed with junk, but unlike the other larger room, most of the things in here were much older and in even greater disrepair. Some of the chairs and tables appeared to have been pulled apart, and others looked as if they’d been destroyed with tools. Splinters of wood covered the ground, almost as if someone had taken an axe to some of the furniture. Every bit of glass from the lamps and vases had cracks in it.
“This is strange,” Mark said, walking over to the windows. He pointed. “These windows have bars on them.”
“Why?” June asked. “We’re on the third floor here. It isn’t as if someone could break in.”
Mark raised his hands. “That’s why they’re strange.”
“Hey!” Jim said. “Look at this!”
Everyone turned toward him, and Emily saw he was holding a small wooden box. He dug into it and pulled something out, holding it up for everyone. She took a step closer and could finally make it out: a lead toy solider. Jim seemed incredibly pleased with his find.
“God, don’t tell me there are creepy old toys up here,” June said, looking around in horror.
Chris laughed. “No kidding. Nothing worse than old dolls.”
June laughed, touching his arm lightly, and Emily almost flinched. The exchange had been cute, intimate even, and she forced herself not to run screaming from the room.
“I’m going to take them downstairs with me,” Jim said, tucking the box under his arm.
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